The Seven Crows
by SomedayonBroadway
Summary: One for sorrow Two for mirth Three for a wedding Four for birth Five for silver Six for gold Seven for a secret never to be told


**Hi guys! I'm back!**

 **Okay, I had _so much fun_ writing this story. It was honestly such a great time. **

**This was a request from an amazing reviewer of mine, Fanz4life! I love you so much, kid! I hope school is going well for you! I miss hearing from you so much!**

 **So, obviously, this request was about The Seven Crows, which I don't really know much about. I've never heard the rhyme before but I really enjoyed kind of making it up as I went along.**

 **Thank you to all who have been reviewing my other stories! Please continue to do that! It means the world to me. Next I should be updating Top Secret, so be on the look out!**

 **Alright, please enjoy!**

There is a painting; bright and new and full of so much life. Of course, it isn't exactly new. It's old. A small piece of history that holds a magic that the world doesn't understand yet; a sort of magic that the world may never understand.

Colors whirl together and make sunlit hills that are only created by imagination. The world inside this painting is one unseen by the people who live their lives inside their phones and computers. This world was created by a young dreamer who wanted nothing more than space and fresh air and big, bright, yellow moon to gaze at every night. A dreamer who was a nobody once, with nothing but a few pennies in his pocket and a few brothers to fight with.

Below the fresh green hills flows a rippling water that waits to be splashed in by a few boys with nothing more to lose than each other. The lake was sparkling beneath the sun that was shining so brilliantly above it, just happy to be so free.

The trees and the fields and the sky were made of clay. Though, across the piece of beautiful art, one could never miss the endearing black birds that read across from left to right.

A story. That is what it was. One that had even the artist questioning things.

They had appeared. To this day, no one know how or why or even when. The dreamer had simply thought it a joke by one of his beloved brothers or his love, though he had been wrong.

The Seven Crows. This painting had been named after it's mysteries; each an important event that had happened for a young man who had once been branded and street rat; a nothing. In fact, when the first of the black ink had been spotted, that is all he had been and to him, it was all he ever would be.

 _One For Sorrow_

Charming is what he was. The artist, once only a young boy, managed to flirt his way through his job and on the way met the young women he'd forget the names of the mornings after. Girls were nice, once or twice, but they never stuck, until one day... she had.

Her name is forgotten to the world, but back then she'd been princess to Brooklyn. The young man, still so young, had believed her when she'd breathed, _"I love you..."_ and believed himself when he had whispered it right back. For months everything was perfect. Two nobodies, destined for nothing, running away together to never be found again.

For her he had created a masterpiece of the world they'd rush to just to get away. A world made of pure joy and bright colors. It was perfect.

Two nobodies with no money stole clothes and food that night, wanting to take off the next morning when the young dreamer would find his love gone, no change left in his pocket and no food left for him to eat.

He thought maybe she had drawn it. The little black crow sitting solemnly on a single tree branch on the left side of his beautiful, far away home. It was a lonely little bird, with a twisted up wing that prevented it from taking flight. It looked full of pain and sorrow.

The artist had rushed out to look for his love, but she was gone, along with his money and their supplies. When he forced himself to go out and do his job selling newspapers that day, he had been caught and dragged away to his worst nightmare. A place called The Refuge where many would go in, and only few would come out.

It was three months of torture before he saw the world again. His brothers would always comment on how he was no longer the same. He was changed and there was no going back.

That painting, unfinished and unknown to the world, was rolled up and placed with many others that were no where near as beautiful as it had been, a painful reminder not to trust. Trust was dangerous and harmful and the dreamer knew he was alone. All he had was a few boys to count on and a few pennies in his pocket with a dream to make it to that world.

 _Two For Mirth_

The boy had since grown and moved on. He was a big brother to some and a father to others at only seventeen. A natural born leader, they called him. He never agreed, but he took the job as head of Manhattan anyways, prepared to protect his boys with his life.

The Newsboys Strike of 1899 almost pushed him to his breaking point. There had never been a time when he wanted to run more than the moment he had been forced to watch his best friend being dragged away to the prison that still haunted him in his dreams.

Running was all he could do until he made it back to his penthouse. His little home above the city where he would sleep with a boy who wanted to do nothing but make him smile. A boy who was now hurt because of him.

It was like he wanted to punish himself by looking back through those sketches. They were dark and rough and angry, only making him want to lash out even more. That was when he saw it again. The land made of clay.

For a moment he had gotten lost in the painting, the colors bringing back memories of laughs as a little boy and a little girl splashed each other with the brushes.

The painting calmed him down enough for him to actually look at it. And, like magic, there it was. Another mysterious, beautiful black crow, just beginning to fly. It's beak hung open, like it was laughing. It was just so happy and so free and the young dreamer wished he could feel like that.

It was not a day later that he was up on his penthouse kissing a girl reporter like his life depended on it. For the first time in his life he felt something spark in the pit of his stomach; something good, something to believe in.

Love. Love for someone who accepted him and loved his brothers just like he had. Love for someone who protected him and his family no matter what.

It was that night that the boy, a nobody from nowhere became a legend that people spoke of for the next century at least. But it wasn't just him, it was woman who would never leave his side; the one who loved him no matter what. An Ace up his sleeve, forever and always.

 _Three For a Wedding_

Three years later was the day the dreamer had been waiting for since the day he'd laid eyes on his bride to be. From what people remember, he was a grinning mess. His brothers had been with him all day and they'd teased him for being so love struck.

He was inside their apartment when one of his boys had brought it in. She had found it. She had found the painting. She loved it so much she bought a frame for it and had her boys hang it on the wall above their bed.

The artist stared at his own masterpiece. Those hills, that lake, that beautiful blue sky, people say it's what he saw in her eyes. He'd found his paradise right where he was. He was one of the lucky few. No longer did the world made of clay resemble broken promises. Instead it was the world the dreamer had found in the person he was about to spend the rest of his long life with.

It was only when he stared at the picture for a long while that he caught sight of a third black crow beginning the soar over the trees of the small paradise. It looked so new and full of life, ready to take on the world. According to his little brothers, the young man laughed with tears in his eyes as he noticed the creature. No one understood what he had been so funny, but they just laughed right along with him, hugging him and congratulating him and they did not leave his side until he was running down the isle, hand in hand with his new wife before picking her up and kissing her once again like his whole life depended on it.

That was the day a legendary strike leader married the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. From that day forward they would never want to leave each other's side.

 _Four For a Birth_

It was not until a year later that the fourth black bird appeared. The artist was too frantic to notice it until the next day, but he knew when he saw it that it had been there already. It was soaring even higher above the one before it as the bigger bird seemed to chase after it, wanting it to stay young and free for as long as possible. This one was so small.

Just a baby.

The dreamer had not noticed it until he was standing, rocking a whining baby boy back and forth in his arms with a teary smile on his face as his wife wearily watched him from their bed, a content smile on her face as she let herself drift off knowing her baby was safe with the man she loved more than anything.

As far as the dreamer was concerned, his life was complete. His paradise was now in his arms and everything he'd ever wanted in the world was everything he had.

 _Five For Silver_

The painting had been still for too long. It must have been almost disappointing for the man who was once a boy. No longer was he young and reckless.

When the magic of the imaginary world decided to risk showing itself again, things had grown. The artist's baby was now what he had once been. A young man, still a boy in his father's eyes, creating mischief on the streets and sneaking through alleyways with a beautiful young girl.

The artist refused to accept that he was getting older. His brothers, still always close by, never let him forget the fact that he was an old man who had a bad back and could no longer run the way he used to.

It was until he looked in the mirror one day and saw the grey hairs that littered his head that his wife had pointed it out. She asked him if he had painted it. He just laughed and shrugged his shoulders, wrapping his arms around her waist as she stared curiously at the land made of clay. He kissed her neck and admired the silver strands in her hair. He didn't care. She would be young forever in his mind.

The bird was beautiful. It was not young, like the ones before it. In fact, it had small grey feathers growing in its wings as it flew to the trees on the right side of the portrait, slowly but surly making its way home.

 _Six For Gold_

The day the artist's son rushed into their apartment with a golden ring in his hands was the day the artist felt more complete than he ever had before. His little boy that once fit in his arms and let him kiss his cheek was about to propose to a girl he loved just like the artist loved his wife.

 _"What do I do, Dad?"_ the young man had asked in a panic. The artist just laughed and brought his son into his arms one more time before his little boy officially became a man.

This time, it was the young man who pointed out the young bird, soaring above its father, wanted to get closer to the sun that it so adored. It was twirling around in delight as it continued to fly higher.

That night, the artist had a new soon to be daughter-in-law that he treated as his own child, just as his wife did.

 _Seven For a Secret Never To Be Told_

 _"There's another one, Dad..."_ the dreamer's son had said, tears in his eyes as he watched his father slowly fade away. The man's wife lay next to him, knowing her time would come soon too, but relishing in the final moments she would have with her love.

The artist smiled and grasped at his boy's hand one more time before letting his eyes slide shut. Asking what it looked like, the artist's son described the small crow, hiding behind the final tree in the painting, just peaking out behind the leaves. _"Looks like it's got a secret..."_ he'd finished, a small, sad laugh on his lips as he looked down at his father.

Just before the legendary man passed, he pulled his boy to him, hearing the younger man's child starting to whimper in his mother's arms. She had tears in her eyes as she watched the only father she had ever known grow weaker. So she held the man's grand baby so close to her chest as the child seemed to know that a light would leave this world along with the man who would taken so many under his wing throughout his life.

A secret. The man had held with him a secret that he had carried with him for years before that. One about a room in an old abandoned building that once held him captive so many years ago.

As the light faded from from the room along with the artist and his imagination, the man promised to guard that secret with his life.

Through generations that secret has been held close, flowing down from parent to child until it made it here.

But that information is strictly need to know.

The painting, the one that hung over the beautiful couple's bed, never left the family. Now, it hangs on a wall above the couch where a family sits to watch television, knowing that artist is smiling down on them, watching over and protecting them just as he had been with his family while he was alive.

That artist was my great grandfather, my grandfather's father. The one who I think about when I am sketching a world of my own. My grandfather and my grandmother tell me I am so much like him. They handed me that painting so long ago, telling me it's story that deserves to be told. A story of a nobody from nowhere becoming a man who had everything he'd ever wanted.

On the bottom corner of the beautiful paradise, a name is signed- _Jack Kelly_ \- along with the original name of the world that I now believe my great grandfather lays lazily with his wife and most of his brothers.

This assignment was about discovering a piece of art that was important to us. Well, there is no creation more important to me than the one my grandfather painted when he was just a boy looking to run away to a new town out went called Santa Fe. It is a symbol of happiness that was found without even leaving his home. One that had a bird for every important moment that happened in his wonderful life. One that held onto his story and would forever.

Though many like to call it by its mysteries, I enjoy calling it by the name it was given a century ago by the man who created it.

 _Sunday._

 **I really really enjoyed writing this. Spoiler alert, Jack's great grandchild got an A on their paper, just in case you were wondering.**

 **Thank you so much Fanz4life! I hope you enjoyed this fic about Jack. I had such an amazing time creating it.**

 **Guys! Me and my friend bexlynne made a joined account! It's called NewsgirlsInNeverland! Please go and check out our stories and let us know what you think! They're a lot of fun (and just as evil as all of our other stories).**

 **As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!**


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